Blood Lines
by laoisbabe
Summary: The Reagans are left reeling after the Commissioner is taken and held for ransom. Can they get their father back alive?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of Blue Bloods.

**Blood Lines**

Chapter 1

"Good morning, Francis."

"Morning, Pops," Frank replied, without looking up from his newspaper and then taking a mouthful of coffee. Dressed in a crisp white shirt, vest and tie, his attire reflected the importance of his position. The New York City Police Commissioner had to look the part.

"Is the coffee fresh?" Henry asked, plodding towards the coffee pot in his bedroom slippers.

"Yeah," Frank replied, looking over the rim of his glasses.

Henry poured himself a generous cup before taking up a seat opposite his son at the kitchen table.

"Are you finished with the sports section?" Henry asked.

Frank pushed the sports pages across to his father. It was just another typical Monday morning in the Reagan household. Both father and son had enjoyed a lovely Sunday lunch surrounded by family, just the way they liked it. Danny, Linda and the boys had come over. Erin and Nicky had stayed the Saturday night and spent all of Sunday with them. Jamie, Frank's youngest son, was in the middle of a tour of night duty so they had hardly seen him the whole weekend. But for both Frank and Henry it meant a lot having them around.

"Busy day ahead?" Henry asked, knowing from experience that almost every day was a busy day for the Police Commissioner.

"Well, put it this way, Pops, this is probably the only cup of coffee that I will sit and enjoy in peace today," Frank replied, smiling over at his aged father.

"I'd better top it up for you then," Henry said, getting to his feet and bringing the coffee pot to the table.

He poured the steaming black liquid into Frank's cup with care.

"Thanks, Pop," Frank said, "but I'm running late. Baker's already outside waiting in the car," he told him, referring to Detective Melissa Baker, his reliable assistant, who ensured that he got to all of his engagements fully briefed and on time.

Frank stood, unconsciously checked his side arm and reached for his overcoat that he had left draped over the back of a vacant kitchen chair. Once he had it on, he took one last swig from his coffee mug and put the remaining half slice of buttered toast in his mouth, grabbed his briefcase and headed for the front door.

"See ya tonight, Pop!"

"Have a good day, son," Henry replied, by now engrossed in the sports pages.

The black Police Department SUV was waiting by the sidewalk outside Frank's house, as it was every morning, just one of the perks of the job. Frank had his own driver, who also doubled as a security officer, and a second officer assigned as his protection detail. This morning he recognised Detective Fisher at the rear door of the car, waiting for him to emerge from the house. Detective Baker was sitting in the back seat of the SUV, with files on her knees, waiting to brief him on the journey into the city.

Frank exited the house and started down the steps towards the car. As he neared the SUV, a white van drove slowly up the street towards them. There was nothing unusual about that, Frank thought, probably a delivery company looking for an address. That was until he noticed the side door of the van slide open.

Immediately his instincts kicked in and told him that something was wrong, but before he had time to shout a warning, the shooting started. Frank ran down the remaining steps towards the car for cover and reached for his side arm. Fisher had already drawn his weapon and was returning fire, all the while attempting to shield the Commissioner. Automatic gunfire riddled the SUV and the area around it. Glass rained down on them from the exploding windows. Frank looked through the open door of the SUV and was horrified to see Baker slumped on her side, blood soaking her blouse. There was no movement from the driver in the front seat, so Frank had to presume that he too was injured or worse.

Both Fisher and Frank returned fire as best they could, but it was obvious that they were seriously outgunned. Two gunmen emerged from the van and came running towards the trapped men. Another burst of fire and Fisher went down. Frank was convinced that he was going to die today, but he had made up his mind that he wasn't going down without a fight. He continued firing until he had exhausted his ammunition.

Henry was in the kitchen when all the commotion broke out. He instantly recognised the sound of automatic gunfire and knew his son was in trouble. He grabbed the phone and dialled 911. As he ran to the gun safe in the living room, he gave the operator a precise description of the emergency. He then hung up, unlocked the safe and took out his old service .45. He loaded it and ran to the front door in time to see Detective Fisher go down. He yelled a futile warning from the front porch, which distracted the gunmen momentarily and gave Frank the chance to charge one of them and wrestle him to the ground. Henry fired a couple of rounds at the other, who quickly turned and returned a hail of lead in his direction. Henry had no choice but to get down and take cover. The glass in the front door shattered and the wood splintered as bullets riddled the front of his house. With one of the gunmen on the ground, Frank scrambled to his feet and tried to make a run for the cover of the house, but he wasn't quick enough. He had only climbed back up a couple of steps when the van driver jumped out, armed with a pistol, and fired a couple of times in his direction.

Frank realised that he had been hit when he felt the hot lead bite into his thigh. His leg immediately went from under him and he landed heavily on the steps. He found himself on the ground, helpless and at the mercy of his attackers. His gun empty, there was nothing to do but wait for the end. He looked up into the merciless eyes of the man who had shot him, trying to gauge what he was going to do next. The other two gunmen were over quickly, one of them angrily chastising the guy standing over Frank.

"Idiot! Come on!" he yelled. "Help me get him in the van."

With that, two pairs of rough hands grabbed Frank under his arms and dragged him unceremoniously into the van, despite his protests and cries of pain. He still protested loudly once they had him inside, which earned him a wallop in the face with the butt of a weapon. It silenced him immediately. Everything blurred and slowly faded as Frank lost consciousness.

From behind the pillar, Henry heard his son's cries, then a screech of tires before an eerie silence descended. With his gun at the ready, he shakily got to his feet and checked the area. It was a shocking sight. The black SUV was peppered with bullet holes and he could see one of the officers down at the open door at the rear of the car where he had last seen his son.

"Francis!" he yelled, his eyes searching for his son.

Unable to see behind the wall at the front of his house, he descended the steps to the sidewalk, expecting to see the body of his son on the sidewalk. But to his surprise he wasn't there. Some of Henry's neighbours peered out of their windows and one or two braver souls ventured out, having heard the gunfire. They were shocked and stunned at what they had just witnessed.

Henry approached the SUV and balked at the sight of Detective Fisher lying in a pool of blood near the open door of the SUV. He reached over and felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one. As he turned, he looked into the car and saw the blonde hair strewn across the back seat and knew Melissa was hurt. He reached in and felt her pulse. It was pretty strong he noted. She groaned slightly at his touch and was starting to come around.

"You're going to be all right, Melissa. You're going to be fine," he said, comforting the injured young woman. "Francis!" he called once more, hoping for a reply, but there was no sign of his son.

He walked around to the driver's side of the car and opened the door to check the driver. But he could tell before he even checked that the poor man was dead.

"Henry! My God! Are you okay?" his neighbour, Ted, asked as he tentatively approached the scene.

"What? I, eh, I'm fine," Henry replied shakily. "Did you call 911?"

"Yes, help is on the way. Are they dead?" he asked, looking at the downed officers.

"This poor man is. The others are alive but need to get to the hospital. Did you see what happened to Francis?" Henry asked, feeling guilty that he hadn't been able to help his son.

"They bundled him into the van and took off," Ted told him. "They turned right at the intersection, that's all I can tell you."

Henry could hear the sirens in the distance and felt some comfort knowing help was on the way. He turned his attention to Detective Baker, who was groggy and confused and starting to panic. He opened the rear door and talked to her, trying to keep her calm.

"See if you can help the other officer," Henry said to Ted.

Ted rounded the car and knelt beside Detective Fisher. He could see three bullet holes; two had thankfully gone into his ballistics vest and one which had missed the vest and entered his lower abdomen. He decided to keep pressure on the bleeding wound. The officer remained unconscious. Henry kept pressure on a wound to Detective Baker's arm and tried to keep her calm. There was another wound to her temple but it looked like a graze. She had been lucky, Henry realised.

"Where's the PC?" Baker asked, her voice weak and pained.

"Ssh," Henry said, gently stroking her forehead. "You're going to be fine."

"Frank?" Baker insisted. "Where…..? Is he hurt?"

"No, he's not hurt," Henry replied, deliberately avoiding eye contact. "Ssh…the ambulance is here. You're going to be fine, Melissa. Just take it easy, okay?"

Jamie Reagan and Sgt. Renzulli were coming to the end of their night tour when Jamie received a call from his Captain.

"Reagan, there's something going on at home. You need to go home, now," the Captain told him.

"Why? What's happened?" Jamie asked, sensing the urgency in his Captain's voice.

"Not sure exactly," he replied truthfully. "All I know is that there were shots fired and multiple 911 calls from residents in the area."

"Ah, hell. Thanks, Captain," Reagan said, hanging up and looking at his sergeant.

"What's going on, Reagan?" Renzulli asked, noting the change in the young man's demeanour.

"An emergency at home, shots fired. Can you give me a ride?" Jamie asked, unable to disguise his concern.

"Sure, kid," Renzulli replied, turning the car and hitting the siren.

As they raced towards the Reagan home, Jamie called his brother Danny.

"Danny, where are you?" Jamie asked, panic evident in his voice.

"At home, getting the boys ready for school. Why? What's wrong?" Danny asked, sensing the panic.

"There's something going on at home. Reports of shots fired," Jamie informed him.

"What? Is Dad okay?" Danny asked, understandably shocked.

"I don't know. We're on our way over there now," Jamie told him.

"Okay, I'll be straight over," Danny said before hanging up. He ran to tell Linda that he needed to get home and promised that he'd call her when he knew more.

Jamie's heart skipped a beat when their patrol car rounded the corner onto the street where he grew up. He saw the throng of ambulances and black and whites outside his house. He could see paramedics working furiously on one wounded person on the sidewalk. Renzulli pulled up a little way up the street and Jamie got out and ran towards the SUV. He saw his grandfather, standing in his robe, looking on as someone, he couldn't see who, was receiving medical attention in the back of an ambulance.

"Grandpa?" he called as he ran up to the elderly gent.

"Jamie. Thank, God," Henry said, throwing his arms around his youngest grandson.

"Where's Dad?" Jamie asked. "Is he hurt?"

"They took him, Jamie," Henry told him sombrely.

"Took him? What do you mean?" Jamie asked. "To the hospital?"

"No. Ted saw them bundle him into a van," Henry elaborated.

"I don't understand. You're saying someone kidnapped him? Why? Why would they do that?" Jamie had nothing but questions.

Henry couldn't answer. The stress of the morning's antics was taking its toll. He swayed slightly and grasped the side of the ambulance. Jamie reached out and grabbed him before he fell.

"Maybe you should sit down," Jamie suggested, realising that the stress would not help his grandfather's heart condition. "Or go to the hospital and get checked out?"

"No, I'm fine. I could do with a drink, though," Henry admitted, shaking off the younger man's concern and heading towards his house.

Jamie tried to find out about those injured. He was relieved to see Detective Baker conscious, albeit in considerable pain. The ambulance containing Detective Fischer closed up and they took off quickly to the hospital. Jamie turned and looked at the SUV. The body of the driver, Detective Cooper, was now covered by a sheet, left in situ for the CSU he presumed. He had started to follow his grandfather towards the house when an unmarked car screeched to a halt outside the cordoned off area. He recognised his brother as he jumped from the car, flashed his badge to an officer and jogged towards him.

"Hey," he said breathlessly. "What happened? Where is he?"

Jamie looked at his brother and shrugged his shoulders. He couldn't find the words.

"What is it? Is he…?" Danny couldn't say it.

"No. I mean I don't know," Jamie stammered. "They took him."

"The paramedics?" Danny asked, getting more confused by the second.

"No, Danny!" Jamie shouted. "They took him. Someone kidnapped him."

"Kidnapped? Jesus!" Danny said, realising the seriousness of the situation. "So who's in charge?"

"I don't know. I just got here. It's all a bit of a mess," Jamie explained. "His security detail has been shot. One is dead, two on the way to the hospital."

Danny ran his hand through his hair. These guys meant business. The brother's brothers entered the house and they found their grandfather , sipping a large brandy, a slight shake visible in his hands.

"You okay, Grandpa?" Danny asked with concern.

"I've had better mornings," Henry replied, trying to muster a smile.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Danny asked, sitting down beside the shaken old man.

"I didn't see it all. I was in the kitchen having breakfast," he explained. "Your father had just left. I heard the shooting. I grabbed my old service weapon. When I got to the door, your father was pinned down beside the SUV and was returning fire. Then the young man got hit and went down. I fired off a few rounds and they turned their attentions to me for a while. I took cover and by the time I got back on my feet, it was over and they were gone."

"And you're sure they took him?" Danny asked.

"Ted saw it all from his living room window," Henry replied.

"So, what do we do now, Danny?" Jamie asked, expecting his big brother to be on top of it.

"Right now, there's not a lot we can do. I guess we have to wait," Danny sighed in frustration.

"Wait? For what?"

"If they took him, we have to presume they took him for a reason. So we wait for them to make contact and see what they want," Danny replied.

"But what if they kill him?" Jamie asked.

"If they wanted him dead, he'd be lying out there on the sidewalk," Danny pointed out. "We may not like it, but we don't have a choice. I mean we can check traffic cameras and maybe catch the van on one, but the chances of following it to their destination is unlikely. Best thing we can do is wait for their call and hope the Mayor or whoever decides to play ball."

_TBC_

**_A/N - Thats it for Chapter 1. Would love to hear what you think so far. You know what to do!_**


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N - I omitted to thank my wonderful Beta, DianeM37 for all her hard work. Thanks Diane! And thanks to all who have read and reviewed.**_

Chapter 2

Frank Reagan was slowly beginning to regain consciousness in the back of the van as it sped through the back streets of the New York suburbs. The vibrations coming up from the floor rattled his teeth and hammered through his skull as they continued at speed. His eyes opened slowly and he tried to focus and take stock of where he was. He was having trouble remembering exactly what had happened. He raised his head slightly, regretting it almost immediately as the jackhammers started with a vengeance. He caught sight of a black, laced, military-style boot close to his head. Then an unfamiliar voice broke the silence.

"Hey, Wade, look who's awake."

"Ah, Commissioner Reagan, nice of you to join us," Wade said, leaning down to Frank, who was lying uncomfortably on his side on the floor of the van.

Frank tried to change his position and was halted by an agonising pain that shot up through his thigh and into his side. He couldn't contain his cry and instinctively brought his hands down and grasped the injured area. He immediately felt the slick blood that was soaking his trouser leg.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry about that, Commissioner. One of my friends got a bit trigger happy," Wade said sarcastically, loudly banging the division between the driver and the back of the van to get the point across to his accomplice, Jack, who was driving.

"Trigger happy?" Frank said angrily, through gritted teeth. Suddenly the events of the last thirty minutes came rushing back. "You murdered my people."

"Yeah, well we had just one objective and you were it. Unfortunately, they got in our way. I like to think of them as… casualties of war," Wade replied, apparently unperturbed by his murderous acts.

"Bastard," Frank growled defiantly and promptly received a kick in the ribs from the second of the men for his troubles.

He curled into a foetal position and tried to protect his body from any further blows.

"Jeez, Leshawn, try not to kill him before we get back to the warehouse," Wade snarled. "He's already bleeding all over the floor. Do something about that, will you? Take his tie off."

"What? Why?" Leshawn asked, looking blankly at Wade.

"Tie it around his leg above the wound, Dumbass.. I don't want him bleeding to death before we get our money," Wade replied patronisingly.

Leshawn did as he was ordered and loosened the tie around Frank's neck before yanking it roughly over his head. He knelt close to Frank's injured limb and tied it tightly above the wound. Frank winced and gritted his teeth, and it took all of his self-control not to cry out again.

"Why are you doing this?" Frank asked once he got his breath back.

"Because some dude is paying us a wad of cash to take you to him," Leshawn replied with a smarmy grin.

Wade cast Leshawn a cutting look. He wasn't happy that his partner in crime was getting chatty with their victim. Leshawn got the message pretty quickly.

"No more questions," Wade decided. "Keep your mouth shut and you might just get out of this alive."

Every bone in Frank's body wanted to fight back, to slap the little punk in the mouth, but he wasn't feeling at all well. His head was spinning. He wasn't sure if it was from the blood loss or the bump on his head. He closed his eyes in an effort to quell the rising nausea. He rested his head back on the floor of the van and offered no resistance. Soon he felt the van take a sharp right and the vibrations of the road underneath changed slightly. They were on a smoother surface, Frank noted. The van slowed and eventually stopped.

Frank's captors clambered to their feet and slid the van door open. Frank peered out in an attempt to see where he was.

"Come on," Wade said, pulling him by the arm. "Get out!"

Frank tried to comply but he found it difficult to move with his injury. He dragged himself to the door, his efforts causing him great discomfort. There was an endless throbbing in his leg. He wasn't able to tell if the bone had been broken by the bullet or not. Leshawn watched his slow progress out of the van and quickly lost patience and yanked him out the rest of the way. As soon as Frank put his weight on his injured leg, he collapsed in a heap at his captor's feet. The blood rushed to his head and roared in his ears. He was close to passing out again. A voice from further away called to the two men standing above him.

"What the hell's the matter with him?"

Wade and Leshawn exchanged worried glances. Their employer didn't look too happy.

"He got shot," Wade replied, trying to sound cool.

"Shot? Who the hell shot him? I knew you idiots would screw this up," the unidentified voice growled. "How bad is it?"

"He took one in the leg. He'll live," Wade assured him.

"You idiots!" the voice said crossly. "This wasn't what we agreed."

"It couldn't be helped. Things got out of control pretty quickly," Wade told him.

"Nothing we can do about it now. Proceed as planned. Secure him in the store room," the voice instructed the men. "I've an important call to make."

Back at Frank's home, his family were beside themselves with worry. Danny was on the telephone, talking to his sister, Erin, informing her of the morning's drama. She was at work in the DA's office and was deeply upset at what she was hearing. Naturally, she wanted to do something to help. Danny assured her that everything that could be done was being done. His words offered little comfort to Erin, though, who decided that it was best if she was with the rest of her family at such a stressful and emotional time. She left work without any explanation to anyone. They would hear about it soon enough, as it would no doubt make the news, she thought. She caught a cab outside her building and it took her to her father's address.

By the time she got there, she had to plow her way through a barrage of news reporters and police officers in order to get to the house. Crime Scene Investigators were busily working the fresh crime scene outside her childhood home. Erin was shocked to see the condition of the SUV. It resembled Swiss cheese, riddled with bullet holes and it was difficult to ignore the dark pool of blood on the sidewalk. She had to identify herself to a uniformed officer before she was let up the steps to the front door, which displayed significant bullet damage also. Inside the house, there was a somber air. She could hear voices coming from a few different areas downstairs. In the living room she found her brothers and her grandfather, Danny still with his cell phone to his ear, Jamie pacing aimlessly and Henry, looking shaken, clutching the glass of brandy in his hand.

He looked up when he saw his grand-daughter and gestured her to come over to him. She quickly covered the ground between them, he got to his feet and they embraced. Erin was so far managing to maintain her outer calm, but inside there was turmoil. She prayed for some good news.

"Anything?" she asked expectantly.

Henry shook his head. She could see the worry in his eyes.

"Danny's sending someone to view traffic camera footage. They have a description of the van and they'll try and follow it that way," Henry explained.

"And that's it?" Erin asked.

"For now. The best witnesses are both in the hospital. Detective Fisher will need surgery. Baker isn't as badly injured and should be able to give us something in a few hours," Henry told her. "Cooper didn't make it."

"Oh my God," she sighed. "I just can't believe this is happening. What do they want? Do you think there'll be a ransom demand?"

"In my experience, kidnapping a high profile target like Francis is very high risk, so the demands will be very high. It is likely that he will be used to force the city, maybe the police force, to give the perpetrators something money can't buy. We will just have to wait and hope that whatever they want can be given to them," Henry said hopefully.

"And if it can't?" Erin asked.

Henry couldn't look at her. He broke eye contact, shook his head and walked to the window. The answer was not something anyone wanted to hear.

Leshawn and Wade half-carried, half-dragged Frank's considerable bulk to the store room at the back of the building. The slightest movement was sending bolts of fire shooting up from Frank's wounded leg and causing him immense pain. He was teetering on the edge of consciousness. Before his captors brought him into the room, Wade ordered Leshawn to empty Frank's pockets. They removed his overcoat, took his wallet, cell phone and reading glasses from his person.

They then opened the door and dragged Frank to a mattress that had been purposefully left on the floor. Wade started to show some consideration for the first time, and actually eased Frank down gently so that he could sit on the mattress. Frank rested his head back against the wall, trying to stifle the urge to throw up. Wade knelt on one knee and had a look at Frank's injured leg. It was still bleeding.

"Hang in there, Commissioner," he said, standing up and making towards the door. "Hopefully you won't be here too long."

He threw Frank's now emptied overcoat onto the floor in the room, and with that the door slammed shut and Frank heard the key turn in the lock. He looked around and examined his prison. It was a tiny room, no more than a closet, he suspected. On one wall stood the remains of a shelving unit bearing a few cardboard boxes. There was no window but there was a skylight in the roof to provide illumination. The mattress on which he sat took up almost half of the floor space. There was a trash can and an old computer hard drive in one corner and that was pretty much it.

Gradually, Frank's heart rate slowed as the adrenaline that had been pumping though him for the last 45 minutes abated. His breathing regularised and he finally started to think straight. The pain from the bullet in his leg eased a little now that the jarring and movement had ceased. He decided that it would be prudent to check his leg and assess the damage. He located the bullet hole in his trouser leg and used it to tear a larger hole to better access the wound.

He loosened the makeshift tourniquet that Leshawn had applied in the van. Blood bubbled steadily from the wound. Gritting his teeth, Frank palpated the area around the entry wound to try and feel the bullet. He couldn't feel it under the skin, which led him to determine that it was embedded deep in the muscle or possibly in the bone. He felt in the breast pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out a handkerchief. He folded it into a wad and placed it over the wound. Then using his neck tie once more, he secured it tightly over the wound. The whole process caused him tremendous pain, and it took all his resolve not to pass out. He breathed heavily for a couple of seconds after and lay his head back against the wall and fought to stay conscious, but he was fighting a losing battle. When the darkness came, he felt relief and allowed it to claim him.

Outside, Frank's captors gathered together in an office the other side of the warehouse.

"So, how's our guest?" the boss asked as Wade and Leshawn returned.

"He's still bleeding, Ricky. We should at least get some gauze or something. If he bleeds out in there, you've lost your leverage," Wade explained sensibly.

Ricky turned and looked across to the door of the storeroom and cursed under his breath. This was not meant to have happened. Their job was to pick up the PC unharmed and keep him that way. They screwed it up and he wasn't happy, but his plan could still work. As long as Reagan was alive, he had something to bargain with.

"Fine, go to the drugstore and pick up whatever you need. But don't take the van! The cops will be looking for it," Ricky warned.

"Have you made the call yet?" Wade wondered.

"Nah, I'll do it soon," he replied. "Have to give them time for it all to sink in."

Back at the Reagan house, Danny was fidgeting and feeling totally helpless. All the sitting around was driving him insane. The Crime Scene Unit were just finishing up outside. The SUV had been loaded onto the back of a truck and covered, ready for transport to the forensics garage. One of the detectives, Monroe, who had been assigned the investigation, approached Danny. They knew each other by name but had never met before today.

"Detective Reagan, can I have a word?" he asked.

"Sure," Danny replied and followed Monroe to the relative privacy of the hallway. "What is it?" he asked, sensing that the detective had something on his mind.

"CSU have discovered blood spatter close to the area where a witness said that your father was forced into the van," Monroe explained candidly. "They've taken samples to confirm, but it is suspected that the Commissioner was wounded in the struggle."

Danny reached for the wall with one hand and looked to the ground. He took a cleansing breath and tried to compose himself. It was bad enough knowing that his father had been taken, but now he had to deal with the fact that he was more than likely wounded and he had no idea how badly. This was just going from bad to worse. For all he knew, his father could be dead. It just didn't bear thinking about.

Detective Monroe slapped Danny on the back in a macho gesture of support. Danny nodded his head in acknowledgement.

"Thanks, Monroe," he said gratefully. "Keep me posted, okay?"

"Of course," Monroe replied. "Don't worry, we'll find him."

Danny knew only too well the mountain that stood before them. He had worked abductions before and a lot of leads came down to dumb luck. Sometimes a member of the public would give them a tip off, sometimes the perp would get sloppy and leave something behind, sometimes the victim escaped; they were the good results. Most of the time the victim's body was found dumped in some alley or under a bridge. He knew the odds were stacked against them. But this time they had to beat the odds. They had to get their father back. He decided that it was best not to tell the rest of the family that Frank could be injured. Not for the time being, at least.

Danny was snapped back from his morbid thoughts by a polite knock on the open front door. He looked up as Garrett Moore, his father's Deputy Mayor and public relations advisor, entered. Garrett extended his hand and Danny shook it.

"How's the family?" Garrett asked thoughtfully.

"Shocked," Danny replied. "Lost. We don't know what to do. What have you heard?" Danny asked, hoping that Garrett might have heard something from the Office of the Commissioner.

"Not very much. I heard Cooper was killed and Fisher and Baker were shot and your father's missing. The press have very little else, only hearsay. They're tossing around the terrorist angle again, trying to create headlines, but there's nothing to make us think that this is a terrorist attack."

"But we don't think this was random," Danny told him.

"Definitely not. It was vicious and professional. According to witness statements, the whole attack took two minutes from start to finish. They got what they came for and had an escape plan," Garrett told him.

"Have you spoken to the Mayor?" Danny enquired.

"Yeah, he's waiting to see if there's a ransom demand before making a statement to the press," Garrett said seriously.

There was a contemplative silence for a moment, then Danny asked;

"Are we going to lose him, Garrett?"

Garrett shook his head and sighed.

"I hope not, Danny. I hope not."

_**To be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

For the family, the waiting was torture. Danny disappeared shortly after talking to Garrett Moore. He decided to go to the hospital to check on Baker and Fisher, not only for himself, but on his father's account. He knew that it would be what his father would want. Erin, meanwhile, busied herself in the kitchen, making sandwiches for the officers, keeping the coffee pot full for anyone who wanted it, doing anything to keep busy. The helpless feeling was unbearable.

Nicky had been picked up from school and, like everyone, was trying to be useful and help out, but she felt just as helpless as the others. She had seen the shot-up SUV and the blood stains on the pavement, even though the adults had tried to shield her from it as she entered the house. Understandably, it had shaken her. She had always known that her grandfather's and uncles' professions were laden with risk, but it had always stayed on the mean streets, so to speak. She had never witnessed the danger so up close and personal before. What had happened was about as close to home as it could get. She was no longer a little kid. She knew exactly how much trouble her grandfather was in and it terrified her that she might never see him again.

She peered out the front window. Members of the press continued to accumulate outside the house. Newspaper and TV reporters, each vying for an exclusive, were so far being kept at bay by uniformed police officers. Nicky looked around the house. It was full of detectives, police officers and concerned neighbours. Everyone appeared so busy and focused. She felt redundant. She decided to go upstairs. At least she wouldn't be in the way up there.

In the midst of the mayhem, Erin's cell phone rang. She looked at the screen. The number came up as a blocked number. She considered not answering it, suspecting that it might be a reporter or someone from work, but something urged her to reply. She walked to a quieter area out in the reception area.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Reagan? Do not react to this call. If you want your father back alive, you will do as I say. Say, of course, if you understand me," the voice ordered.

"Of course," Erin replied with slight hesitation.

"Your office is prosecuting a significant case due to be heard next week. Do you know which one I am referring to?"

"Yes." Erin knew exactly which case he was talking about. It was one of the biggest organised crime trials New York had seen in nearly ten years.

"You have access to the witness list. I want a copy of that list. I also want the location of safe houses containing the protected witnesses. Provide those and your father might just get out of this alive. Do you understand?" he asked.

"Yes," she said uncomfortably.

"A ransom demand has also been sent to the Mayor's office; only you should know that this is not our prime objective, the list and locations are. Tell no one of this conversation. If I see or even think I see cops, your father is dead. We _are_ watching. You have 24 hours. After that, the clock runs out for the Commissioner," the voice told her.

"Wait, where do…."

"I will contact you again," he said and suddenly hung up.

Erin felt sick. She tried to breathe. Was this for real? Had she just received the ransom call? She didn't know what to do. Being the daughter of a cop, she knew that keeping this to herself was not the way to go, yet she could not risk a gaggle of eager cops, trying to be heroes, screwing it up and getting her father killed.

She would have to keep this in house, in the family at least. She excused herself from the kitchen and quickly found Jamie in the living room. She took him aside and told him of the call she had just taken.

"We need to call Danny. He'll know what to do," Jamie insisted.

"What if they're watching?" Erin asked.

"So what? You're calling your brother. Nothing unusual about that, especially considering the circumstances," Jamie pointed out.

Erin wasn't convinced, but knew she had little choice. She called Danny on his cell, checking over her shoulder to see who was in earshot.

"Hey, Sis," he answered. "Anything new?"

"You could say that," Erin replied in a low voice. "I got a call."

"From them? What do they want?" Danny asked eagerly.

"A witness list and the safe-house locations for witnesses," Erin told him.

"In the Matteo trial? Can you get it?" Danny asked.

"I could but….," Erin started and then hesitated.

"I know," Danny interrupted. "Of course it's not an option. But we have to at least make it appear that it is. What did Monroe say?"

"I haven't told him. The guy said I was to do this alone. He'll call back later with further instructions. He said no cops, ; he was pretty clear about that," Erin explained.

"Well, we're a family of cops, so that's gonna be hard," Danny reminded her. "Listen, right now you need to look like you're doing exactly as he said. Go back to the office, spend some time there. Print out a list, doesn't have to be the real one, just good enough to be convincing. I'll send you addresses of a couple vacant safe-houses, then sit tight and wait for his call. I'll get tech to set up a trace on your phone. You do exactly as he asks. I won't be far away," Danny promised.

"Are you sure about this?" Erin asked sounding understandably worried.

"What choice do we have?" Danny replied.

"Okay," Erin agreed. "Should I tell Grandpa?"

"Probably best not to just yet," Danny advised. "The fewer people who know, the better. Does Jamie know?"

"Yes, I told him," she replied.

"Good, we're going to need his help and ask him to see if Renzulli will help out, off the books. I'll get Jackie and a couple of guys from the precinct on board," Danny told her. Then he paused before continuing. "Erin, there's something you should know before you do this."

"What is it?" she asked, sensing that something else was bothering Danny.

"I didn't tell you before because I didn't want to upset you, but CSU found some blood at the scene. They think that it belongs to Dad. They're testing it to be sure, but it looks like he was hit during the fire-fight. They don't know how badly. The reason I'm telling you now is, before you do anything, look for proof of life. I hate to say it, but all this could be too late," Danny admitted.

"Don't say that, Danny. He's alive. I just know it," Erin insisted.

"I hope so," Danny sighed, feeling ill at the thought of losing his father.

"He is and when we find him the first question he'll ask is how his detectives are," Erin told him.

"I know. Detective Baker is in recovery. She's going to be okay. Fisher is still in surgery. It's touch and go from what I hear," Danny told her.

"Was Melissa able to tell you anything?" Erin asked.

"Not yet; the doctor's won't let me see her. I won't stick around now, though. I need to get to the station. If he calls you again, let me know," Danny said.

Erin agreed and then bid her brother farewell. She whispered to Jamie what Danny had advised and Jamie agreed with the plan. He would stay in contact with Danny and would provide back-up if and when it was needed.

Just then Detective Monroe rushed through the front door and gestured for the siblings to follow him into the living room.

"A ransom demand was just sent to the Mayor's office. They want three million dollars in unmarked bills. They've given the city until midday tomorrow to pay or they say they will kill the Commissioner," he told them.

Erin and Jamie exchanged glances. They knew this was a smoke screen for the kidnapper's real demands. Henry noticed their odd exchange but said nothing. Instead he asked the expected question.

"Are they going to pay?"

"As you know, Henry, it is against policy to negotiate with terrorists, but we don't know if these are terrorists," Monroe reminded him. "They didn't identify themselves. There has been no official response from the Mayor's office as yet."

In his heart, Henry knew where they stood. He'd sat in the Commissioner's chair for long enough and knew how these things worked. The only hope he had of getting his son back was if New York's finest could find him before time ran out.

While all this was going on, Frank lay unconscious in his make-shift prison cell. He jerked awake when the lock on the door rattled. He tried to focus his eyes when suddenly the light from the overhead bulb burst into life, momentarily blinding him. As he shielded his eyes from the glare, he could see the blurred figure of a man entering the room. He sensed the man's proximity to him and as his eyes adjusted to the light, he recognised him as one of the men from the van.

"I need to have a look at your leg," Wade told him. "I brought some supplies," he continued, showing Frank a bundle of bandages, tape, antiseptic and painkillers.

Frank looked at him suspiciously. For obvious reasons he didn't trust this man. Why would he? He had, after all, shot his officers and kidnapped him. Wade knelt down closer to Frank's side. Frank removed his hand that had been pressed against his wound and reluctantly allowed him access to it.

"Have you ever been shot before?" Wade asked, by way of conversation as he loosened the bandage that Frank had so crudely fashioned.

Frank glared at him before deciding to answer.

"Yes, as it happens," he replied. "Once when I was on the job and then again last year."

"Oh, yeah, I read about that in the paper. Outside a restaurant or something," Wade recalled as he cut part of Frank's trouser leg away.

Frank winced at the movement. To his surprise, Wade apologised for hurting him. Frank looked down at the neat entry wound in his thigh. There was still blood oozing from it, but at least it had slowed. While Wade cut some fresh bandages, Frank considered his options. He knew that if he threw a good right hook and caught Wade on the chin, that he would put him down with ease, but he also knew that there was no way he could walk unaided, so escape was unlikely. He really was at their mercy.

"Why are you doing this?" Frank asked, hoping to gleam some information from his captor.

"Can't have you bleeding to death," Wade replied flippantly.

"No, not this," Frank said, pointing to his wound. "I mean this whole thing. What are you hoping to gain?"

"Me? Just cash. I don't have an agenda, just some expensive habits," Wade replied honestly.

"So, you're the hired help?"

Wade nodded.

"This is going to sting," he warned Frank as he prepared to pour antiseptic onto the wound.

Frank nodded and braced himself. He tried not to cry out, but the agony was too great and he just had to release his suffering as the liquid seeped into the wound and re-awakened a burning pain. He pressed his head back against the wall as his breathing came hard for a minute or two until he managed to get it back under control. By that time, Wade had covered the wound with a bulky dressing and secured it with a wrap-around bandage.

"There, that should do it," Wade announced upon completion. "Take a couple of these, should help some with the pain," he said, handing Frank a packet of over-the-counter painkillers and a bottle of water.

"So, are you gonna tell me who is pulling the strings?" Frank asked, anxious for as much information as he could get.

Wade smiled wryly.

"Are you trying to get me killed? I can't tell you that. But do me a favour, if you wanna get out of this alive, just do as he says. He's a crazy mother fucker and he won't hesitate to kill you or anyone else who gets in his way," Wade told him nervously.

Frank absorbed his words and could tell that the young man was afraid of whoever this person was. As Wade started towards the door, Frank spoke up.

"Thanks," he said, just loud enough to be heard by Wade.

Wade turned back and briefly looked at Frank before walking out and locking the door behind him. Frank was left alone once more, to consider his fate. He looked down at the patch-up job Wade had done on his leg. At least it felt a little better, he thought, but he knew that without medical attention he could be in trouble. With the bullet still in his leg, infection wouldn't be long about setting in. His mind wandered to his family and he worried about what they must be going through. He feared for his father, especially with his heart condition. Such stress would do him no good. He had great faith in Danny, his eldest son, who was more than capable of keeping it all together when the family needed it most. He would be their rock. He worried about Erin, his only daughter and Jamie, his youngest. Could they handle losing him?

He prayed that it wouldn't come to that, but right now he had no idea what his captors wanted, which left him pondering his fate.

**To be continued...**

**A/N - thanks for your reviews everyone. I love to get feedback and you've all been so kind.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Having listened to Monroe's explanation of the kidnapper's demands and his theories on tracing calls and I.P. addresses, Erin had only one thing on her mind: she had to get to her office. She concocted a lame excuse about a deposition hearing and informed her family that there was no way of getting out of it and apologised for leaving at such an awful time. They were all a little surprised, but understanding, and promised to keep her updated on the situation. She felt terrible lying to them. She ran upstairs and explained to her daughter that she had to leave for a while. Nicky was livid with her for abandoning her and the rest of the family at a time like this and made no effort to disguise her anger.

Erin so desperately wanted to tell her daughter that she was doing this to get her grandfather back, but she had been warned not to and she had no intention of jeopardizing that. Erin apologised and left her daughter sulking and listening to her I-Pod in the guest bedroom. As she left the house, Jamie climbed the stairs to his bedroom and made a discreet call to his sergeant, Anthony Renzulli. Renzulli had dropped Jamie back to the house when they first got the call about the shooting. He had offered to stay, but Jamie had insisted that he go home and get some sleep. That was only a couple of hours ago. He was surprised to hear from his partner so soon again. Jamie explained everything that had happened before asking Renzulli for his help. Needless to say, Renzulli was ready, willing and able. He agreed to meet Jamie and Danny at a coffee shop across the street from Erin's office in the city. Jamie thanked him and went back downstairs and slipped out of the house, unnoticed.

By the time Erin got to her office, word was spreading about the shooting and the disappearance of her father. Eyebrows were raised when Erin was spotted returning to work. She could feel dozens of sets of eyes follow her and could hear their whispered remarks, but she chose to ignore them. All she had to do was go to her office, produce a convincing witness list and wait to be contacted. Danny was going to provide her with the addresses of a couple of NYPD safe-houses which would hopefully be occupied by officers, ready to deal with whatever the kidnapper's intentions were.

She held it together until he reached her office and quickly closed the door. She leaned on her desk, hung her head and tried to take deep breaths. Having calmed herself, she sat at her desk and turned on her PC. Then she got to work. The witness list wasn't a problem. It was public record, but the locations where certain high value witnesses were being kept were a different matter. Very few people had access to that information for obvious security reasons. As Erin accessed the files, there was a knock on her door and in walked Charles Rossellini, her boss.

"Ah, the rumour is true," he said, walking in with a puzzled look on his face. "What on earth are you doing here? I heard what happened. I thought you'd be with your family."

"I was," Erin replied, standing up and coming around to the front of her desk. "But waiting around that house, listening to all the possible outcomes was just driving me insane," she lied. "I had to get out of there."

"I understand," Rossellini replied. "But I can think of other places I'd rather go than here."

Erin smiled.

"Here means normality to me," she told him.

"Of course," Rossellini said, believing her. "Look, Erin, if there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

"I will, Charles, thanks," Erin replied. "But right now, if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone."

"Sure," he said, hugging her. "Be strong, okay? They'll find him."

Erin forced yet another smile. One way or another they would find him. She was going to make sure of that.

From a coffee shop close to where Erin worked, Danny was rounding up the troops. Jackie had arrived to help her partner. Jamie had managed to get away from the house and Renzulli arrived shortly after him.

"Thanks for coming," Danny said as they took a table in the corner. "You're all up to speed?"

There were nods of agreement, no small talk. They all knew what was at stake.

"Okay. Jackie, were you able to get me that list of safe houses?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, these ones are all unoccupied at the moment," she told him.

"Good," Danny replied. "I'll send a couple of addresses to Erin. Jamie, I'll need you and Renzulli to be ready in one house. Jackie, will you get Dobbs to go with you and you two hole up in the second one. My guess is that once they have the addresses, they'll hit them soon after. Be ready and be careful. We need them alive."

"Where does that leave you?" Jamie asked his older brother.

"I'm Erin's back up," Danny replied. "She's probably going to get a call to drop off the information somewhere. I'll keep eyes on her and then follow the information. I'll tail whoever picks it up and hopefully they'll take me to where they're holding Dad."

"I don't like the idea of you doing that without back-up," Jackie said, sounding concerned.

"Don't worry. I'll get a couple more guys. I won't be on my own," Danny replied.

"Okay," Jamie said sounding apprehensive. "Let's do this."

With that, Danny handed both Jamie and Jackie a note with the address of each house they were to go to. With a final word of caution, the group dissipated. Danny remained at the coffee shop. He sent a text to Erin with the addresses of the two safe houses they were setting up.

Erin was startled when her phone beeped and the text arrived. Danny informed her that they were ready and reminded her to get proof of life. Now all they could do was wait.

Back at the house, Henry was getting suspicious. While Monroe and his detectives were buzzing around and making call after call, Henry realised that none of his grandchildren was anywhere to be found. He knew they wouldn't leave him handling this alone unless they had no other choice. He managed to find a quiet spot in the bathroom and made a quick call to Danny.

"Yeah, Reagan," Danny answered his phone eagerly.

"It's just me, Danny," Henry said in reply.

"Oh, Grandpa. Is everything okay?" Danny asked.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Henry said. "You've got a lead, don't you?" he continued, not giving Danny a chance to lie.

"I didn't want Monroe messing this up. They made contact with Erin. She has to exchange some information for Dad's life. They said they'd kill him if she tips them off. So we're doing it our way," Danny explained.

"I understand. If anyone can get him back, you can, Danny. I won't say a thing. If you need my help, just call," Henry offered.

"I will, Pops," Danny promised.

Danny ended the call and sat back, beginning an anxious wait for Erin to get the call.

Erin had been at her office for well over an hour when the call finally came. She jumped when her cell phone rang. She looked at the number and it came up as blocked. It had to be them. She took a deep breath before answering it.

"Do you have what I want?" the mysterious voice asked her.

"I have it," she told him.

"Good. Then we can do business," he told her. "I want you to take a cab to the Irish Hunger Memorial in Battery City. Enter the park and go to the bench facing the cottage. There will be a newspaper on the bench. Put the envelope in the newspaper and walk away," he instructed her. "Do you understand?"

Danny words echoed in her head, "Proof of life".

"No," Erin said forcefully. "I know my father was wounded outside our house. How do I know he isn't dead already? I'm not giving you anything until I speak to him," she demanded.

"That's not what we agreed," the voice said angrily.

"Well, until I know he's alive, I'm not leaving this office," Erin told him, her stomach feeling sick all of a sudden.

With that the caller hung up. Erin was devastated. What had she done? She burst into tears, suspecting that she had just killed her father. She looked at the phone. She wanted to call Danny, but knew not to in case the kidnapper called back. She sat there for what felt like an eternity, waiting.

In the warehouse, Frank was lying on the mattress in his prison, praying for rescue when the door burst open. A large man whom he didn't recognise shouted at him.

"Get up!"

Frank looked up groggily at him. He eventually focused on him.

"Who are you?"

"You're going to call your daughter," he said, shoving the phone into Frank's hand and ignoring the question. "Tell her to do as I say and you'll see her again. You try anything stupid and she'll never forget the sound of me putting a bullet in your head."

Frank looked into this man's eyes and didn't doubt for one moment that he meant exactly what he said. He pressed the dial button. The call was answered almost immediately.

"Hello?"

"Erin? It's me," Frank said breathlessly.

"Dad? Oh my God, are you okay?" she asked emotionally.

"I'm fine," he told her, trying not to worry her. "It's going to be okay," he said and then the phone was snatched from him.

"Now listen, you better hurry if you want to get to Battery Park on time, 4 p.m...alone. If I see anyone following you, you'll find your father floating in the Hudson," he threatened.

"Okay, I'll be there. Just please…. don't hurt him," Erin pleaded before the kidnapper cut her off.

She stared at her cell phone for a few seconds then looked at the clock on her office wall. It was almost 3 p.m. She would have to move quickly. She sent a brief text to Danny with the words "Irish Hunger Memorial, Battery City" on it. Then she gathered the envelope and her bag and hurried out of the office.

Back at the warehouse, Frank studied his captor as he finished the call with his daughter. He needed answers.

"Who are you?" he asked as the guy turned to leave.

Rick, the big guy, turned back, glanced down at Frank's leg and smiled heartlessly, yet, much to Frank's frustration said nothing.

"Why are you doing this?" Frank yelled as Rick slammed the door. "What do you want?"

Frank hated not knowing what was going on. He liked to be in control. He liked order. Right now, his fate was in the hands of strangers and there was little he could do. He was light-headed from the blood loss and feeling decidedly unwell. His leg throbbed continuously and the pain was worsening. He thought if he could just close his eyes, he would feel a little better. He shivered, whether from the cold of the room or the shock, he couldn't tell. He lay back on the mattress, pulled his overcoat over his body like a blanket and closed his eyes. He just needed to rest. He wasn't ready to give up, though. He had faith in his men, in his police force.

_**To be continued...**_


	5. Chapter 5

A/n - thanks to all who have read and reviewed. You know who you are! Apologies for the delay in updating. Hope you like.

Chapter 5

Erin left her office building and took a cab towards Battery City. Traffic was heavy and she asked the driver to take West Broadway instead of Broadway in the hope of avoiding delay. She sat nervously in the back of the cab, clutching tightly the small white envelope in her hand. She considered what might happen once she got there. Her phone beeped as a text arrived. It was from Danny. He was already at the memorial. He advised her to do exactly as she had been told and to drop the envelope and leave. She trusted her brother and had no intention of doing anything to jeopardize the plan. She was confident that he knew what he was doing. She just hoped that it would work and that they would get their father back.

The cab pulled up on Vesey Street and Erin paid the driver and stepped out. She looked around nervously, not exactly sure what she was looking for. She checked her watch. She was a little early. She took a deep breath and entered the garden. It was quiet and there weren't very many people about, some tourists taking pictures and a few office workers relaxing, having a late lunch. She looked around, expecting to see her brother, but there was no sign of him. She continued towards the stone cottage.

As she walked, little did she realise that there were two sets of eyes following her. The first was her brother, who studied her from a distance. He had seen her emerge from the cab from his seat on the grass inside the garden. He had a hotdog in one hand and a soda in the other and looked like a worker on a break enjoying the autumn sunshine.

The other person watching her was Leshawn Fox. He wore a Yankee's baseball cap and tan leather jacket and jeans. He carried a camera around his neck and could easily have been mistaken for a tourist. He snapped pictures of the memorial, as well as Erin as she walked through the garden towards the bench. Erin spotted the newspaper lying on the bench and looked around to see if anyone was watching her. No one stood out. She sat down and picked up the paper and pretended to read the front page. Then she reached into her handbag and took out the envelope, all the while looking around. She placed the envelope inside the folded newspaper and put it back on the bench. Then with one final glance around, she stood up and walked away.

All the while, Danny kept his eyes on the bench. He watched as his sister walked away and left the park. He remained in position, sipping his soda and keeping an eye on the bench. It wasn't long before a guy approached the bench. He was African-American, wearing a baseball cap and jeans. He didn't sit; he just stooped to pick up the newspaper. He opened it quickly, saw the envelope and closed it again before putting it under his arm and walking away. Danny was quick to his feet and began to follow the suspect at a distance.

They left the park and the suspect walked away and headed towards the nearest subway station. He paused at the top of the stairs and threw the newspaper into the garbage can. He then opened the envelope and made a quick call.

"You got it?" Ricky asked.

"Yeah – two addresses," Leshawn replied before reading out the two addresses that Erin had provided.

"Okay, I'll send some of the guys. You get back here and make sure you're not followed," Ricky warned.

With that warning, the call ended and Leshawn looked around the busy street, checking the faces, before heading down into the subway. Danny was discreet. He sent Erin a brief text to let her know that he was following this guy. He kept a close eye on Leshawn, as he was swallowed up by the crowd. He followed him to a platform and waited, only feet away from him, trying to act oblivious.

It worked. Leshawn was none the wiser as the train pulled up and he climbed aboard. Danny got on the same carriage through the other door and moved through the crowd to get a little closer. The crowd thinned a little after each stop and Leshawn eventually found a seat. He was settling in for a long ride, Danny surmised. Danny also sat a stop later and he opened a magazine that had been left on the seat and pretended to read it. They rode the train for over thirty minutes, never making eye contact. Finally, Leshawn stood and moved towards the door of the 59th Street stop. There he disembarked and jogged towards the stairs. Danny remained seated, watching until Leshawn got off before following behind as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself.

As he emerged onto the street, he stood and looked around. He had lost sight of Leshawn. His heart fluttered in panic, fearing that he had lost his only lead to finding his father. But the panic was short-lived when he spotted him at a cross-walk on the corner of the block. Danny paused, keeping a close eye on his prey, took out his cell and sent a message to Erin.

"At 59th St. Station. Pursuing suspect. Notify Garrett."

He watched as Leshawn crossed and Danny trotted after him, as if trying to make the light. Leshawn had relaxed and was no longer looking over his shoulder. He presumed that he was home free. He was oblivious to the fact that he had company.

Back on Manhattan Island, Jamie and Renzulli waited in an apartment, one of the safe houses on the list that Danny had given to Erin. They were prepared for company, each wearing their Kevlar vests and armed. As they waited, they did what they could to make the place looked lived in. They turned lights on and the TV up loud enough to be heard, but neither was watching what was being shown. Jamie kept watch at the window, Renzulli covered the door.

Danny had texted Jamie that the list had been delivered and to expect company. They didn't have long to wait. Jamie saw a car pull up outside the apartment. Two guys got out and looked around, checking the area. One of them looked directly up to the window and Jamie instantly stepped back out of view. He called to Renzulli.

"Looks like we've got company."

"All right, kid. We try and take them alive, okay? Remember, we need to find out where they're holding your father," Renzulli reminded him.

"Sure, Sarge," Jamie replied, but he didn't need reminding.

He knew exactly what was on the line here. He had worked under stressful situations before, but this was different. This was personal. He tightened his vest and re-checked his weapon. He was as ready as he would ever be. They both watched the door. It wasn't long before there was movement on the door handle, a subtle, silent twist, click and turn. Slowly the door opened.

Renzulli and Jamie waited, Renzulli in the bedroom doorway, Jamie at the corner where the hallway led into the living area. Each held their breath as the first armed assailant entered, followed immediately by his counterpart. As soon as they entered, Jamie sprang out from his cover, shouting at them to drop their weapons. Unsurprisingly, they didn't heed his warning. The first man through the door, raised his weapon and fired, forcing Jamie to resort to a similar course of action. Seeing his partner under threat, Renzulli charged from the bedroom door and tackled the second guy, pulling him down onto the floor. Shots rang out and Jamie felt the impact of a bullet on his vest. It knocked the wind out of him and he toppled backwards. As he fell, he heard the cry of pain as the guy who shot him doubled over, clutching his stomach. Jamie sat up, his ribs aching, and struggled to his feet. Renzulli was still wrestling on the ground with the second assailant.

Jamie quickly disarmed the wounded man on the floor and then went to the aid of his partner.

"Police! Get down!" he yelled with authority. "Get on the ground!"

Renzulli landed another telling punch on his opponent and it was obviously the final straw and the guy slumped to the ground. Renzulli stood up, breathless, and looked around.

"You okay, kid?" he asked.

"Caught one in the vest, but I'm fine," Jamie said painfully, leaning down and cuffing the guy on the floor.

"I'll call it in and get a bus," Renzulli said, giving his partner a congratulatory slap on the back.

Garrett Moore was on his way to the mayor's office when his cell phone rang. He answered it eagerly, expecting it to be news regarding his good friend, Frank. It was, of sorts. It was Frank's daughter, Erin.

"Hi, Erin. I'm just on my way to the Mayor's office right now."

"That's great, Garrett, but right now I think Danny is going to need your help," Erin said, sounding nervous.

"What is it, Erin?" Garrett asked curiously.

"We haven't been totally honest with you. Several hours ago, I got a call from the guys holding Dad. He said if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd kill him," Erin began.

"What did he want?" Garret interrupted.

"A list of safe houses. He warned me not to involve anyone else, but I had to tell Danny. We fabricated a list and made the drop like he told me. Anyway, Danny has been following the guy who picked up the list. He told me to let you know and said that you'd know what to do," Erin told him.

"Do you know who this guy is?" Garrett asked.

"Not yet. Danny is still following him. But they're in Brooklyn. Last location was 59th Street Station," Erin told him.

"Brooklyn? Okay, I'll let the nearest precincts know and put them on standby," Garrett told her.

"They can't be seen, Garrett. If he sees a cop, he said he'd kill him," Erin warned.

"I understand. Don't worry, we can have ERT on standby and have plain clothes guys in the vicinity. I'll try and reach Danny and talk to him, see who and what we're dealing with. We'll have the element of surprise on our side," Garrett pointed out.

"Thanks, Garrett. Bring him back, okay?" Erin pleaded.

Garrett hung up. He couldn't believe it. He stood outside the Mayor's office building and took a deep breath. It looked like he would have to miss that meeting after all. He had a rescue to stage.

Danny continued to follow Leshawn, who walked west towards the docks. It was getting a little more difficult for Danny to be inconspicuous, as there were fewer people around. He hung further back and kept watch at a distance. Eventually, Leshawn turned into a gateway and momentarily disappeared. Danny quickened his pace until he reached the same gateway. He quickly peered around the pillar and caught a glimpse of Leshawn walking between two warehouse buildings. He paused and briefly glanced around. Danny ducked behind the pillar and prayed that he hadn't been seen. Leshawn disappeared into one of the buildings.

Danny was unsure whether to continue after him or to stay back and report the position. His father was probably inside that building and he knew he was hurt. His heart urged him to charge in there, guns blazing and rescue him, but he had to resist. He had no idea how many people were in there. He could end up getting both his father and himself killed.

He reluctantly walked away from the gate, finding the best vantage point where he could watch the comings and goings of anyone from the building. He decided it was time to call Garrett.

"Garrett, its Danny Reagan."

"Yeah, Danny, I've just been speaking to your sister. Where the hell are you?" Garrett asked.

"I'm watching a warehouse," he explained, giving the exact address. "I think this is where they're holding him."

"Okay, don't do anything stupid. I have ERT on standby. They'll be warned to come in quiet," he assured the young detective.

"Okay, I'll hang back until I see them," Danny decided.

Danny was reluctant to walk away, but he knew he couldn't jeopardise the operation that was underway. As far as he knew, his father was inside and the guys who were responsible for his abduction were there too. He returned to the street and stayed out of view of the windows of the building.

He was there only five minutes when the warehouse door slid open and a white van emerged. His heartbeat quickened and his hand instinctively found his weapon on his hip. He looked around, hoping to see some sign of the response team, but he was disappointed. He stepped back behind a parked car and pretended to be taking a cell phone call as the van passed him by. He turned and snapped a quick photo with his cell phone and caught the license plate. He called dispatch and issued a stop and search on the van. Then he started to wonder whether his father was in the van. Maybe they were moving him?

He cursed at his lack of information and his helplessness. He couldn't fight his instincts any further. He entered the warehouse lot and followed the line of the buildings, keeping alert to any movement in the area. It was deathly quiet. Most of the warehouses lay idle and obviously hadn't been used in some time. He reached the sliding door from which the van had emerged. It had since closed back up. A few feet to the right, there was another smaller door, the one Leshawn had used to get inside.

Danny unsheathed his weapon and tried the door handle. It was unlocked. He was grateful for that tiny bit of luck. He opened the door as silently as he could and stepped inside, closing the door promptly behind him. He held his breath and waited a few seconds, scanning the interior and listening for any sound.

He found himself in a large open warehouse floor with very little in the way of cover. To the back of the building there were several doors and a few windows, which he presumed were the offices. He could hear muffled voices, but couldn't be sure where they were coming from. The sound seemed to be bouncing around the vacant building.

He silently crept around the perimeter of the space until he reached the first of the office doors. The voices were closer now. He tried to determine from the voices, the number of men involved. He could only hear two distinct voices. He was about to try the first door when his cell phone rang. He reached for it and knocked it off immediately, but it was too late. The men had heard the noise and were out of the office, waving automatic weapons and frantically looked around the warehouse. They hadn't seen him yet. Danny instinctively looked for cover. His options were limited: a few oil drums about ten feet away or through a glass pane and into the next office.

Then they spotted him. He identified himself as a police officer and ordered the men to lower their weapons, but Ricky and Leshawn just laughed. As soon as Leshawn made a move to raise his weapon, Danny fired a volley of shots in his direction, all the while making a beeline for the office. He heard Leshawn grunt in pain as he leapt and smashed, shoulder first, through the glass window. The rattle of automatic gunfire ensured that he kept his head down as hot lead peppered the office while he scrambled for cover.

Danny waited. He was pinned down, but knew that sooner or later the gunman would have to reload. It was inevitable. Soon he heard the empty click and quickly stood up and fired two decisive shots in the direction of the second gunman. Both were on target and the man went down. Carefully, Danny emerged from the office and approached the men. Leshawn was howling, clutching his knee and begging Danny to call an ambulance. Danny checked on the second man, Rick, but he was dead, having been hit twice in the chest. Danny returned his attention to Leshawn.

"Where is he?"

"Aw, I'm hurt man. Get me a doctor," he pleaded.

"I said, where is he?" Danny repeated, pressing his foot down on the injured man's leg.

Leshawn howled in agony before pointing to a door on the opposite side of the building. Danny roughly rolled him on his stomach and cuffed his hands behind his back, then took off running in the direction of the door. As he ran, he could hear sirens approaching outside. So much for coming in silent, he thought.

In the store room, Frank had been wrenched from his slumber by the noise of the gunfight outside. He wondered what was going on. He desperately wanted to get to his feet and bang on the door and shout for help, but he was too weak and growing weaker. He knew that he had lost a lot of blood. He was trembling, perspiration soaking his shirt. He barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. He hoped this was his rescue, because he couldn't hold on much longer.

He jumped with fright when there was a loud thump on the door.

"Dad! Are you in there? Dad?"

He thought he recognised the voice, but his mind was muddled and he couldn't identify it.

"In here," he replied, mustering all his strength.

He heard the key turn and the door burst open.

Danny stopped where he stood, shocked to see his father in such a state. His head was lolling to one side, as though he hadn't the strength to hold it up. He looked at the blood-soaked mattress and then back to his father's drained face.

"Dad," he said, dropping to his knees, taking his father's head in his hands and turning his face towards him. "Look at me, Dad. It's Danny. You're going to be all right."

"Da…..Danny."

"I'm here now," he said, as the ERU officers flooded the warehouse.

"I need some help in here," Danny yelled, his panic evident in his voice. "I need a paramedic! Hurry!"

Danny continued to comfort his father until the paramedics finally entered the room. They quickly got to work, giving him oxygen and dressing his wound more securely.

"He's lost a lot of blood. We need to get him to the hospital, now," one of them told Danny.

Danny nodded. He helped manoeuvre his father onto a gurney and out to the waiting ambulance.

"I'm coming with you," he said, not waiting for an invitation.

To be continued...

A/N - apologies if I've messed up the NYC geography.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - thanks to everyone who read and reviewed this story. This is the last proper chapter. Big thanks to my wonderful Beta also.

**Chapter 6**

Word filtered through to Garrett Moore of the operation at the warehouse in Brooklyn. He experienced mixed emotions upon hearing of the rescue of the Police Commissioner. He felt overwhelming relief that his good friend had been found and that he was alive, but a gnawing fear ate away at him when he heard that Frank was wounded and on his way to the hospital. He was also given the task of letting the rest of the Reagan clan know what had transpired. His first call was to the patriarch, Henry Reagan, who was at home waiting for news of his son.

When the phone rang, Henry raised his hand, signaling to all in the room to keep the noise down. He listened intently to the caller, his expression changing from fear to relief and back to fear as he absorbed what the caller was telling him. He thanked Garrett for calling and then slowly put down the receiver. He turned and looked at the expectant faces of the officers and detectives who were waiting in his living room.

"They found him," he said, with little relief. "He's on his way to San Sebastian Hospital with a gunshot wound. He didn't know how serious."

He took a deep breath to steady himself before asking Detective Monroe to take him to the hospital. He called up the stairs to his great-granddaughter Nicky, who ran down immediately. She knew something was up by the buzz of chatter in the hall and inside the living room.

"What happened?" she asked him.

"They've found Frances. We need to get to the hospital. Will you call your mother and tell her to meet us at San Sebastian Hospital?" he said, as he reached for his coat from the hallstand.

She called her mom on her cell phone, still cross with her for not being there when they needed her. She presumed that she was putting her work and career ahead of her family again. She had no idea how involved her mother had been in bringing about the rescue of her grandfather. Erin sensed her anger but didn't have time to explain. She promised to meet them at the hospital and hoped they could talk there.

Meanwhile, Danny clasped his father's hand as the ambulance sped through the city streets. The paramedic had ripped open Frank's shirt and placed trace pads on his chest. An oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. A saline drip replaced lost fluids. The paramedic was working hard to stabilize his patient. He was unable to hide his anxiety, frequently taking his patient's pulse and checking his output on the ambulance monitor.

Danny watched, wide-eyed and fearful. His father had been unconscious ever since they had moved him into the ambulance. His breathing was shallow, his face deathly pale and his skin clammy. Danny knew that his father had been bleeding for hours and was aware of the strain that it would eventually put on his heart. He sensed the paramedic's unease. He prayed that they had got to his father on time. He leaned closer to him and whispered into his ear.

"Don't give up now, Dad. Just hang on."

The ambulance jerked to a stop and the doors burst open. Danny was quickly to his feet and helped shove the gurney bearing his father out of the ambulance towards a hoard of waiting medical staff. He hopped out and followed as the medics whisked the Police Commissioner into the Emergency Room. He was halted by a nurse outside the trauma room and left standing outside as they got to work on his father. He stood helplessly at the door, peering through a small square window, straining to see what was going on. He watched as they cut away Frank's clothes and quickly covered him with a sheet.

A nurse pushed past him to enter the room and was carrying a couple of bags of what he presumed to be O-negative blood. A minute later a scrubs-clad surgeon entered the room and appeared to take control. He started to examine the wound on Frank's leg and asked that x-rays be taken.

Without warning alarms began blaring and the action in the room appeared to speed up as the medics began to work furiously. Orders were barked and complied with without question. Danny's heart plummeted.

"Intubate."

"He's crashing."

The words reverberated through his brain. Danny held his breath. This can't be happening, he thought. He didn't want to look, yet couldn't take his eyes off the unfolding scene.

"Push those fluids. Give me one amp of Lidocaine."

One doctor administered the injection and watched and waited.

"Anything?"

Heads turned expectantly towards the monitor, then shook negatively. The doctor leading the emergency started chest compressions while a nurse manually ventilated their patient. The doctor paused after a minute or two and the nurse checked the carotid pulse and shook her head.

The doctor then turned and took the paddles of the defibrillator in his hands and held them over the body of the Commissioner.

"Okay. Charge to 200. Clear!"

The subsequent jolt that shook his father's body was shocking and caused Danny to shudder. A brief silence descended as the room froze and everyone waited expectantly. Nothing. They resumed CPR.

"Let's go again! Clear!"

Again his father's body convulsed. Again the room paused. This time the silence was broken by a much celebrated blip of the cardiac monitor, then another and then another.

"We got him," one of the doctors announced, putting back the defibrillator on the crash cart.

Danny felt his knees go weak as a wave of relief washed over him. He reached for the opposite wall for support before shakily releasing the breath that he had been holding.

Inside the room there was another flurry of activity and within seconds, the doors of the trauma room flew open and his father was wheeled past him, down the corridor towards the elevators.

"Where are you taking him?" he asked, following the gurney like a lost puppy.

"We're taking him to surgery. You can follow us if you like. There's a relative's area upstairs where you can wait," a nurse told him.

Danny nodded and thanked her. He traveled up the elevator with the team of nurses and doctors who had just saved his father's life. He looked at each face and vowed to remember each and every one of them. Finally, his eyes rested on his father's pallid face. There didn't appear to be any blood at all remaining in his cheeks. If he wasn't listening to the reassuring beep of the portable cardiac monitor, he would easily have believed that his father was dead.

They exited the elevator on the third floor and Danny was directed to the relative's area. The nurse promised to keep him updated on his father's condition. He sank into one of the sofas and suddenly felt drained. He couldn't think straight. He tried to calm down and eventually decided to call his family. He called his wife first and told her where he was and what had happened. He asked her to contact the rest of the family, which she promised to do. She was very concerned for her husband and her father-in-law and promised to get to the hospital as soon as she could arrange a sitter for their two sons.

Henry and Nicky had been given a police escort to the hospital and got there in extra quick time. They were directed to the relative's area on the surgical floor where they found Danny pacing anxiously. Detective Monroe followed Henry and Nicky. Henry hurried to his grandson's side and hugged him.

"How bad?" he asked eagerly.

Danny bit back his tears and tried to vocalize.

"He took a round in the thigh. He's lost a lot of blood," Danny explained. "I don't know…..they…..they had to revive him in the ER," he told them before breaking down.

His niece was quickly over to console him. Danny felt embarrassed for getting emotional in front of them and quickly tried to compose himself. Shortly after, Garrett Moore arrived at the hospital. He chatted briefly with Detective Monroe, who made it clear that he was not impressed at being left out of the loop with regard to the rescue operation. Garrett tried to explain that he had only found out what was going on at the last minute. Monroe wasn't sure if he believed him or not but decided not to make a scene. Garrett then sat with the family and tried to be supportive at this dreadful time. Erin arrived a little while later and became more and more concerned as Danny explained to her how he had found their father and the condition he was in.

"Has anyone heard from Jamie?" she asked, only then noticing that he wasn't there.

Garrett spoke up.

"He was involved in an operation at one of the safe houses. They arrested two men, so he's questioning them. I called him as soon as I heard and he said he'd get here as soon as he could," he explained.

"What about the second house? Curatola and Dobbs were there. Are they okay?" Danny asked.

"Yeah, another two hit that address. One is dead, the other surrendered," Garrett replied.

Danny was relieved that his partner was safe.

"What about the driver of the van? Did you get him?" he enquired.

"Yeah, he's in custody. We hope to be able to question him in the next few hours," Garrett replied.

"And the guy I shot?"

"He's being prepared for surgery as far as I know. They identified the DOA as Ricardo De Luca. They're looking into his background now."

The conversation faded and the group waited in relative silence. The waiting was torture. Linda arrived and sat beside her obviously shaken husband, taking his hand and comforting him.

After what felt like an eternity, a surgeon emerged from the operating theatre and approached the group. Everyone turned in his direction and tried to read his expression.

"I'm Dr. Rashid; I treated the Commissioner when he was brought in," the doctor began.

Henry stood and shook the man's hand.

"He had lost a lot of blood and was suffering from hypovolemic shock when he reached the ER. He subsequently suffered a cardiac arrest, but he was lucky that it happened where it did. We were able to restart his heart quickly and get him into surgery soon after. The bullet had lodged close to the femur and was compressing the femoral artery. When we tried to remove it, the artery ruptured and we had to deal with a major haemorrhage," he explained.

Linda gripped Danny's hand even tighter while Erin pulled her daughter closer. They waited, unsure what they would hear next.

"We were able to carry out a repair and restore circulation to the limb. We won't know for a while yet, if there will be any lasting damage. He's stable now and will spend the night in the ICU so that we can monitor him closely," the doctor told them.

"So, he's going to be okay?" Erin asked.

"I expect him to make a full recovery. He's very weak but, given time, he should be fine," he replied, smiling as he did so.

"Can we see him?" Henry asked.

"In a while. We just need to settle him in first," the doctor told them.

"Thank you, Doctor," Henry said, shaking his hand once more.

He turned to his extended family and they gathered together in a communal hug, each member oozing relief having heard the news. They smiled, chattered excitedly amongst one another as they waited to see him.

Jamie arrived a short while later, his face a picture of concern. He jogged from the elevator when he saw his family sitting in the waiting area.

"How is he?" he asked fretfully.

"He's out of surgery. He's going to be okay."

Erin met her baby brother and threw her arms around him. He winced slightly, his ribs reminding him of his close call at the safe house.

"What was that?" she asked, noticing his grimace.

"Oh, nothing," Jamie replied, reluctant to add to his family's concerns.

"Are you okay, kid?" Danny asked, having noticed it too.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Jamie insisted. "I took a hit in the vest, that's all," he said with indifference.

"You were shot?" Nicky asked, her face changing from joy to concern.

"No, well sort of, I guess," Jamie replied. "I'm fine, just a bit bruised. So when can we see Dad?"

"The doctor said we can see him in a while," Erin told him.

"Good," Jamie replied before taking Danny aside to discuss the events of the last few hours.

Danny explained how he shot and killed one suspect and wounded another. They had Wade in custody and even though Danny would have liked to question him, Monroe insisted that he and one of his detectives take care of any interviews. He had left a little earlier, anxious to begin the process. Jackie and Dobbs had also made an arrest. And the Reagans had their father back. Considering how badly the day had started, it was looking brighter now.

Soon they found themselves following a nurse to the ICU. They were asked that only two people would go into the room at any time. Henry went in first accompanied by Erin. His breath caught in his throat when he saw his son. Frank lay, the bed slightly elevated, his eyes closed, ghostly pale. He was breathing unaided, which helped Henry relax slightly. There was a cardiac trace monitor attached to his chest; the blips the only sound breaking the silence.

Erin wrapped both her hands around her father's and held it tightly. He stirred a little at her touch and sluggishly opened his heavy eyelids. As he focused his vision and recognised the worried faces smiling at him, he attempted to smile back. He felt drained and his mind was clouded from the medication. He did his best to keep his eyes open and engage with his family, but the combination of drugs and exhaustion conspired to deny him.

His head lolled to the side and his eyes closed, but he could still hear their voices, their comforting words and he felt safe at last.

The End

_**A/N - I've decided to do an epilogue just to wrap this one up. Will try get it posted ASAP. Hope you liked it.**_


	7. Epilogue

_**A/N - sorry for the delay in getting this posted. Was away with the family on a short break. This is un-betaed so all mistakes are my own. Thanks to everyone who read this story and got in touch. You're the best. **_

**_Epilogue_**

Frank sat nervously outside Court Room 3, waiting to be called as the main witness in the city's case against Wade Cook and Leshawn Fox. They had been indicted on counts of murder, kidnapping and attempted murder as well as several lesser offences. As he waited, Frank unconsciously ran his right hand over his healing thigh and stared at the ground. It had been six weeks since the kidnapping, six weeks since he had been wounded.

It had been a long six weeks for Frank. He had remained in hospital for a little over a week before being allowed home. He had been left with many scars; not all of which were visible. The physical pain slowly diminished though he still felt twinges of discomfort and now walked with a slight limp. The emotional scars were another story.

His family was his strength during that time. He had been housebound for a few weeks which gave him ample time to think; not always a good thing he discovered. He found himself sinking into the depths of despair. His family buzzed around him like bees, pandering to his every need and dealing with his often grouchy and swinging moods. It drove him mad most of the time. He hated depending on anyone. He hated putting people out, but more than anything, he hated that he survived and young Detective Cooper didn't.

His guilt over the death of Detective Cooper was a cloud hanging over him. He deeply regretted that he hadn't been able to attend his funeral because it had taken place while he was still in hospital. Garrett had represented him, but it wasn't the same. Frank felt responsible. He felt that he should have been there. The young detective had died protecting him after all. He questioned why, in some people's eyes, one life was more valuable than another; why it was acceptable for one person to die protecting another.

As he battled his demons, he sought comfort and spiritual guidance from his close friend, Monsignor Walter Donahue. They had talked several times throughout his recovery. Frank opened up to Walter and told him things that he could never tell anyone else. He shared his anger with God, his feelings of abandonment, his sense of loss. But Walter was able to make him see the positives that came from tragedy. He made him see that reasons were not always apparent at first, but that there was always a reason. Slowly, he was able to deal with what had happened and realised that he was not the one to blame. Ricky Salucci and his crew were to blame. So he concentrated his energy on getting justice for Cooper and those injured, and ensuring that those responsible would go away for a long time.

His police force and the D.A. worked tirelessly to ensure that they compiled enough evidence to bring those responsible to justice.

Now the moment of truth was upon him and memories of that fateful day had been resurrected. His nerves were jangling. His stomach felt a little giddy. He sucked in a deep, nerve-settling breath. Erin, who sat beside him, placed her hand on his when she sensed his unease. It had been a long time since Frank had been on the inside of a courtroom as a witness. It was a high profile case and outside the court building was a media circus. He hated that cameras were stuck in the faces of the victim's family when they entered and left court. He was well used to the intrusion of the media, but Detective Cooper's parents and his fiancée weren't. It was difficult enough for them as it was, without having to deal with the media also. He had left instructions with Garrett to do his best to act as a buffer between the family and the media, but it wasn't always possible to protect them.

The door of the courtroom swung open and his name was called. Frank stood up stiffly. Erin gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. Danny and Jamie, who had been standing chatting nearby, approached Frank to wish him good luck.

The usher opened the door and Frank threw back his shoulders, stood up straight and marched confidently up the courtroom and into the witness box. He cast a glance at the two men sitting in the defendant's chairs and then looked briefly into the gallery where he saw Detective Cooper's family and some members of his family. He placed his hand on the bible and swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

The case was heard over a period of a week. Frank's evidence took almost an entire day of that week. Danny and Erin also gave evidence for the prosecution. At the end of the week, by the time the verdict came, Frank didn't have any doubt that the defendants would be found guilty and he was right; guilty on all counts.

There was an outpouring of relief in the courtroom once the verdict was read. It marked the conclusion of a traumatic and emotional experience for many people. Frank's heart went out to the Cooper family. He knew exactly how they must be feeling, having suffered a similar tragic loss when his own son, Joe, was killed in the line of duty. He hugged Cooper's father and mother but refrained from offering empty words. Words were of no comfort at such a time. Their loss was eternal.

After the verdict, they left the courthouse and battled through the throngs of reporters. Frank declined making any comment. Again, Garrett was tasked with making a statement on behalf of the Police Commissioner and the Cooper family. Frank and his family just wanted to get home. They drove in relative silence; Frank in a pensive mood.

When they entered the house, an enticing aroma met them at the door. Henry appeared in the hallway, wearing an apron, with oven mitts on his hands.

"I hope you're hungry," he said with a smile, returning to the kitchen.

He deliberately didn't ask about the verdict. In his mind, it wasn't important. All that was important had just walked through the front door. Linda then appeared from the dining room and greeted Danny with a kiss.

"The boys are setting the table," she said, the clinking of glassware could be heard in the background. "Nicky's helping Pops in the kitchen," she said to Erin.

The family removed their outer wear and entered the dining room. Henry and Linda had prepared a wonderful meal. Everyone took up their place at the table. From the head of the table, Frank watched in silence as his family relaxed, laughed and joked. There was a time, only weeks ago, that Frank thought he would never experience this again. He allowed himself a smile. Normality had returned. There was only one thing left to say;

"Pass the potatoes."

**The End**

**A/N - that's it folks. Struggled to find a good way to end this. Also, apologies for my ignorance of the US justice system. Have no idea how long a murder case would go on for so forgive my inaccuracies.**

**Roll on Season 3 of BB!**


End file.
